


Things Spot Conlon Is (and is not)

by StariNights



Series: Tumblr Requests [4]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Boy In Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, but hes cuban for me, cuban spot, i guess?, idk why, not in a slur way, request, use of queer but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 07:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StariNights/pseuds/StariNights
Summary: //He started thinking maybe Race wanted to tell him something that no one else could hear, maybe he would be the one leaning in this time-No. No no no. Spot Conlon is not a queer. So what if he's never had an interest in girls? He runs Brooklyn! He doesn't have time for feelings! And yeah, maybe he stares at Race's lips a little too much and maybe it is a little weird he let a Manhattan boy sell on his turf but that doesn't mean he's a queer!//((aka spot is in denile and Race cant believe that worked!))





	Things Spot Conlon Is (and is not)

  
Spot Conlon was many things.

He was a leader. He was a fighter. He was a Cuban-American sixteen-year-old boy with more Brooklyn pride than should be able to fit inside his five-foot-three body.

What Spot Conlon is not is a liar. So when is second in command asked him where the fuck he was going at midnight it was all the more believable when he shrugged noncommittally and said he had left his hat at the docks.

Well, believable for everyone else in the room other than Spades herself. She had played enough poker with the boy to know his tell.

Spot Conlon bit the inside if his cheek when he lied, and he was biting the inside of his cheek hard. She gave him a pointed look at what to her was a blatant lie

He just glanced between her and the girl who's head was currently in her lap, raising an eyebrow in a challenge for her to say something. She rolled her eyes "fine then, keep your secrets, asshole"

He slipped out the door without further remark. Puffing up against the cold night air he headed toward the docks. At least he was truthful about one thing.

And when you really think about it, he was truthful about the reason he was going too. He really was going to get his hat, it's just that he was going to get it from Racetrack.

Spot scowled to himself, Racetrack Higgins was another thing altogether. He had this way of getting Spot to do things that Spot Conlon doesn't do.

He had him visiting the races just to see him, he had him blushing and losing sleep, he had him leaning in closer than he should.

He had him sneaking out at midnight to go get his stupid cap after Race had plucked it straight from his head, pulled him into an alley and whispered to "meet me at th'

docks" so close to Spot's ear that it made him shudder.

He shuddered again thinking about why Race might have asked him here. His mind wandered to places it shouldn't have. He started thinking maybe Race wanted to tell him something that no one else could hear, maybe he would be the one leaning in this time-

No. No no no. Spot Conlon is not a queer. So what if he's never had an interest in girls? He runs Brooklyn! He doesn't have time for feelings! And yeah, maybe he stares at Race's lips a little too much and maybe it is a little weird he let a Manhattan boy sell on his turf but that doesn't mean he's a queer!

~~Spot Conlon isn't a liar, but Race sure makes him lie to himself~~

He shook the thought from his head and hardened his expression as he approached the docks. He couldn't see Race anywhere so he assumed that he was just later then Spot was.

The Brooklyn boy leaned on a piling, staring out at the waves as his thoughts rolled in his mind. He was so stuck in his mind he didn't notice the figure creeping up behind him until it was too late.

Arms draped across his shoulders and, without so much as a gasp, he ducked out of them, whipped around to face whoever the fuck thought it was a good idea to touch the king of Brooklyn, and swung his fist.

"Ah! Jeez Spotty!" The dumbass jumped back just in time for Spot' s fist to hit empty air and Spot realized that this wasn't just any dumbass, this was _his_  dumbass! Ahem, the one he was going to see of course. That's what he meant. Shut up.

"Jesus Racer, the fuck were ya thinkin'? I woulda soaked ya" Spot leaned back against the piling whilst he masked his racing heart with a confident smirk.

Race scoffed and impishly punched Spot in the shoulder. "Please, I could take ya!"

Spot raised an eyebrow but didn't retaliate. "Zat so?"

The taller boy grinned and did it a few more times. "Yea, it sure is" flipped a coin from his pockets "wanna bet on it?"

Spot snorted, "ya know, I could use some easy cash" he snatched the coin out of the air before Race could catch it again and used his other hand to half-heartedly smack Race in the face.

Race laughed and punched him back then they were horsing around. It must have been quite a sight, two boys running around the docks at one in the morning with red cheeks and loud laughter, both trying to the pin the other or just get a few playful hits in.

Somehow Race got Spot pinned against a crate, holding his wrists above his head and using almost all of his body weight to keep him there whilst the shorter boy struggled half-heartedly.

They were both flushed and panting, grinning like the idiots who just chased each other around a dock at one in the morning they are.

"See, I told ya I could beat ya," Race said in between shallow breaths.

Spot just smirked "ya know, ya say that but," he kicked Race's feet out from under him and, when he stumbled, flipped them around to where Spot had Race's back pressed against the wood of the crate, "that wouldn't really be right, now would it?"

Race groaned "Oh fuck you, I almost had ya"

He just laughed "and yet ya didn't," he said, pressing Race to the crate just a little harder to prove his point.

Through all the excitement, Spot hadn't realized how close he and Race were, but the blush the painted Race's cheeks reminded him of his earlier dilemma. Namely, the whole 'I'm not queer but maybe a little bit' dilemma.

"Ya have a lot of freckles" Race breathed, bring a hand up to softly brush against the spots that gave the leader of Brooklyn his name. Spot forced down a shudder at the touch, he wasn't going to let Race know how much he affected him.

"They's called sunspots, 's how I got me name" he whispered, voice a little raspy.

"Huh," he paused, brushing his thumb across a few on his cheeks bones, and Spot let him.

He didn't move back, he didn't smack his hand away, he didn't laugh and say he was being a little queer. He just stood still, hands still fisted loosely in Race's overshirt.

"They's suits you" Spot flushed as Race smiled, hand still resting on the shorter boys cheek.

They were silent for a beat before something passed through Race's eyes and suddenly he was leaning in. Going against every voice in his head screaming at him to run, to push Race away, soak him, anything! Spot met him in the middle, letting his eyes flutter closed as their lips brushed softly.

It wasn't much, just the soft press of his lips against Race's, but it left Spot breathless. When they pulled back after only a second his breathing was labored, just a bit.

Race didn't open his eyes, he scrunched them up as if when he opened them the world would end. His hand had moved down to Spot's shoulders, and his slight shaking was giving Spot anxiety.

He moved his hands from where they were still fisted in Race's shirt and moved them up to cup Race's face in his hands, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone with more gentleness then anyone would have thought possible coming from Spot Conlon, feared leader of Brooklyn.

Spot Conlon isn't gentle with anyone who's not Brooklyn, and yet here he was, holding another boy as if he was made if glass.

His eyes finally snapped open and searched Spot's for something. For what, you may ask? Spot doesn't know, but he didn't seem to find it as he just looked confused.

"You'se ain't gonna soak me?" He asked quietly, and the legitimate fear in his voice stirred something painful in Spot's chest. He brushed his thumb softly against his cheekbone again, rubbing slow, careful circles into the side of his cheek.

"Course I ain't, why would I do that?" He didn't dare raise his voice above a breath but he knew Race caught every word.

"Well, I'se a queer, an' I just kissed you, an' you'se like the most powerful newsie in New York-" Spot cut of his anxious rambles with another quick kiss.

"Do I not seem queer to you, Racer?" He said after he pulled back barely an inch.

"Youse serious?" He sounded as breathless as Spot felt and it made him braver, even if was just a little bit.

He smiled. Full out, teeth showing, squinty-eyed smiled and pressed his forehead to Race's. "Yeah, I 'se serious Racer"

Race laughed, breathless. "God I'm so glad I asked ya to meet me"

"Me too, Racer," he pressed a kiss to his lips again "me too"

So Spot Conlon may not lie, be gentle to anyone other than his newsies, let Hattan boys sell on his turf let alone kiss them, meet boys on the docks just to get his cap back, or let boys kiss him breathless under the stars-

But Race was and always will be the exception.

**Author's Note:**

> A request! I wrote this awhile ago and posted it to tumblr but never here????))
> 
> ANYWHOSIES!! As always you can find me on that one hell site tungle dot com @allthenewsiesaregay-bitch. Request shit or just yell at me about stuff!!


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